


Finder's Keepers

by agentwashingtin



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M, Pirate AU, the booty puns were part of the request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-29
Updated: 2014-06-21
Packaged: 2018-01-21 07:25:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1542512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentwashingtin/pseuds/agentwashingtin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sun was just beginning to peek over the edge of the horizon when Donut, lookout for the Reds’ ship, leaned down from his perch high up on the rigging and shouted over the wind, “Land ho!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Large waves crashed against the sides of their ship and sent Grif tumbling out of his hammock. For a moment he lay dazed on the floor, wondering what had woken him. When his eyes caught on the hammock twisted around itself he scowled and stood, cracking his back and making to untwist the hammock and get back to napping. Before he could, however, a shout caught his attention.

"Land ho!"

He strolled over to the stairs, climbing them and poking his head out from the hole in the floor of the deck. “Did someone say land?”

Donut clambered down the rigging, jumped off the ropes and onto the deck in front of Grif, landing with a rather impressive pose and a wide grin. “I did say land! Not too far from here either. We should make it in a couple of hours if we try.”

The captain of the ship, Sarge, and his first mate Simmons had appeared by this point. Sarge set to ordering Simmons to correct their course while Grif groaned. ”That sounds suspiciously like work.”

Donut just smiled. “Nothing like working up a sweat next to my three favorite men on the whole ship! C’mon, it’ll be fun!”

Grif grimaced and Simmons rolled his eyes, grabbing Grif by the arm. “Come help me with the sails.”

Grif jumped at the chance to get away from Donut until he realized he’d been roped into work. “ _Simmons,_ " he whined, watching as Simmons began loosening the ropes on the sails. 

"Stop complaining, fatass, and help me. We’ll get to land faster if you do."

Grif sighed. “As long as it gets me off this damn boat.”

He attempted to help Simmons as much as he could, before his attention started to waver. He settled on watching the muscles in Simmons’ arms work under his maroon shirt as he yanked on and retied the ropes, letting the red sails bloom out and pull them in the direction of the looming mass of land.

When he was finished, Simmons walked back over to Sarge, who was steering the ship towards their course. Grif trailed behind him, having nothing better to do.

"Do you really think we’ll find the treasure, captain?" Simmons asked, eyes bright in anticipation. 

"Well, if the map is any indication, there should be loads of it. Mounds of treasure high as the eye can see!" Sarge grinned, map clenched tightly in one hand against the hard wind.

Simmons peered at the fabric in Sarge’s hand and frowned. “Captain, I don’t think that’s a ma-“

Grif clapped his hand over Simmon’s mouth and pulled him away from their triumphant captain. “Shut it!” he hissed.

Simmons broke away from Grif’s hold and gagged. “Your hand smells like rotting fish!”

"What do you expect, we’ve been at sea for three months! Why do you think I’m so eager to get off this fucking boat?!" 

Simmons was about to retort when he realized. “You gave Sarge a fake map, didn’t you?”

Grif scoffed. “How did you figure it out?”

"It looked like it was drawn on one of your old shirts. Where did you even find the ink? Sarge keeps his quarters locked and he’s the only one who has any."

Grif ignored his question in favor of smirking at Simmons’ first statement. “You knew it was an old shirt of mine.”

Simmons blushed but stood his ground. “I-I’m surprised Sarge didn’t figure it out first. You only wore that shirt all the time.”

"No I didn’t." He smiled and then sang softly, "You know what my shirts look like."

"Shut the fuck up."

* * *

A few hours later the ship slowed to a stop as their anchor hit the bottom of the sea. 

"Get a move on and get your sorry asses down here! We don’t have all day!" Sarge called.

Simmons clambered into the small boat, followed by Grif and Lopez and finally Donut, who hopped into the small space between Simmons and Grif. Lopez rowed the boat to shore while Sarge studied the “map” more and gave out directions to the other three. 

"Once we hit land, we need to go ten leagues south of this here rock and then pass this lake. After that the treasure should be right in this cave." Sarge punctuated each direction with a gesture towards a certain part of the map. Simmons listened intently, despite knowing the map was a fake.

Grif leaned back, smiling towards the sun and imagining the feeling of something other than wood under his feet.

They hit land not soon after that and scrambled out of the boat. Grif collapsed into the sand with a groan, digging his fingers into the sand and letting out a breathy sigh. “ _Land_.”

Simmons rolled his eyes but plopped down next to him, enjoying the feeling of solid ground just as much as the others. He watched Donut try to get Lopez to twirl around with him, but the larger man refused to budge from his spot next to the boat. 

Grif scratched at the orange bandanna on his head and sighed. “How long do you think that map will fool Sarge?”

Simmons toyed with the sand, letting the grains run through his fingers and onto his boots. “A couple weeks if we’re lucky. Maybe longer.”

"Come on men! It’s time to get moving if we’re going to get far before sundown!"

Simmons jumped to his feet and hauled Grif to his, setting out behind Sarge and letting Donut and Lopez take up the rear. 

They were almost to the lake when the sun started to set. Sarge decided to stop and set camp for the night. Donut scampered off to collect wood and Lopez went off in search off food, which left Simmons and Grif in charge of making shelter. Or rather, Simmons made the shelter, while Grif occasionally set a stick or leaf on a place Simmons told him to. 

Soon, Grif got bored and plopped down next to the half-built shelter. He produced a small bottle of rum from somewhere and set to drinking it, watching Simmons with hooded eyes and letting his mind wander, taking an occasional sip. 

He was startled from his musings when Simmons plopped down next to him, officially declaring the shelter done. Grif held out the bottle to him but Simmons declined, taking a sip from his own water pouch. 

"What would you do if there actually was treasure?" Simmons asked after a while.

"It would freak me the fuck out, considering the map is a fake."

Simmons rolled his eyes. “I meant if we were searching for actual treasure and we found something, dipshit. What would you do with it?”

"I’d probably get as far away from this crew as it would take me."

Grif tried to convince himself that the flash of hurt he saw in Simmons’ eyes was just his imagination, but he wasn’t so sure. He coughed and asked, “Why, what would you do with it?”

Simmons rolled his water pouch between his hands. “I’m not sure. Maybe buy my own boat if there was enough to do so.”

Grif raised an eyebrow. “Really? You like the sea that much?”

Simmons shrugged. “Yeah, I mean I’d really just like to be in charge of my own boat. Sarge is great and all but sometimes I really wish I was the captain. That treasure could get me that.”

"I think I want some of your booty now," Grif said offhandedly.

Simmons choked and his face erupted in a blush as he stuttered, “U-um it’s really not that great of an idea. A ship of my own? It’s kind of dumb. I mean, I, uh-“

A grin formed on Grif’s face as he realized what he had said and he quirked an eyebrow. “Don’t be ashamed of your booty, Simmons, it’s yours to do with what you please.”

The blush spread down Simmons’ neck and he stuttered again before Grif shoved his bottle into Simmons’ hands. “Just shut up and drink before you embarrass yourself more.”

Simmons grabbed the bottle and hesitated only a second before taking a large swig. Grif pulled the bottle out of his hand. “Don’t drink it all. Damn.”

"Grif, I-"

"Don’t say anything Simmons. Enjoy the moment before Sarge comes back and demands we help Donut with the fire."

Simmons nodded and ended up slumping against Grif’s side. Grif smiled to himself and twisted the bottle in his hands, trying not to think too hard about the way Simmons felt pressed up against his side. Instead, he focused on planning on how to convince Sarge that they needed to stay and search the island for the treasure as long as possible.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introduction of the blue team!

"How hard is it to gather enough wood for a fire?" Grif groaned, staring longingly at the three raw rabbits on the ground near his feet. Lopez stood protectively above them, wiping the rabbit’s blood off of his knife. 

"How hard is it for you to shut the hell up?" Simmons snapped.

Grif rolled his eyes. “Solid comeback, dumbass.”

"Both of you shut your traps! I think I heard something," Sarge shushed them, holding out his hand. He stood slowly and peered into the dark woods around them.

"It’s probably just Donut trying to surprise us, Captain," Simmons offered.

Grif shuddered. “Hopefully it’s not like one of his normal surprises.”

Sarge whirled around. “I told you two-“

The four of them jumped and Grif let out a yelp of surprise as a loud shot rang through the air. Sarge’s hat flew off of his head and landed on the ground. The tree behind him cracked as it took in the impact of the round, throwing bark through the air. 

"What the hell was that?!" Grif cried, him and Simmons scrambling to their feet.

A shout of victory came from the darkness in front of them, followed by a short, “Bullshit, you totally missed.”

"What? No way!"

Three men tumbled from the foliage in front of them, the man in front carrying a still smoking pistol. 

"Oh, come on!" the man groaned, waving his pistol dejectedly. 

The man to his left, dark skinned, shorter than the first and wearing an amused expression, holstered his pistol and let out a bark of laughter. “You were like, what, ten feet away? How did you miss him?” 

"He was moving!" the first man snapped.

"Was not-"

Grif cleared his throat. “Um, hello? Who the hell are you and why did you try and shoot our captain?”

"Isn’t it obvious, Grif? They’re Blues! Just look at them!" Sarge said, pointing at the three men. 

Grif looked and noticed the pale blue color of the first man’s shirt, the turquoise bandanna wrapped around the second man’s arm, and the dark blue scarf tied around the third man’s waist. He snorted. 

"Of course they are. What are you idiots doing here?" he asked.

"Same as you fuckers. Looking for treasure, obviously," the second man answered.

"Tucker!" the first man groaned.

Tucker crossed his arms and stared down the first man. “What? It’s not like they weren’t going to figure it out anyway.”

"Um, Church?" the last man asked sheepishly.

"How would they have figured it out?" Church demanded. 

"Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because we’re going the same way as them?" Tucker slurred sarcastically. 

"Church?"

"That could have been for any number of reasons!" Church snapped.

Tucker rolled his eyes. “Oh really, like what?”

"Church?"

"What, Caboose?" Church snapped, glaring at the third man.

"Why is that man staring at me?"

The men gathered turned around and saw Lopez, who had flicked his knife around in his hand and was glaring at the blues in general. Caboose happened to be the closest to him. 

"You dirty Blues are trying to take our treasure! Lopez is just defending what’s rightfully ours," Sarge said.

"Like it belongs to you Reds anymore than it does to us?" Church retorted.

Grif and Simmons stared dumbfounded at the exchange, glancing at each other in confused awe.

"I can’t fucking believe it," Grif murmured. 

"We’ve got the map, that means it’s ours!" Sarge shot back.

"Yeah? Well, we followed you here, so we’ve got a shot at it too," Church snapped.

"How does this even happen?" Simmons whispered, inching away from the rest of the group. He turned to look at Grif and found a gleeful look on his face.

"This is the best idea I’ve ever had," he muttered happily to himself.

They were just turning back towards the confrontation when a voice sang out of the darkness, “I’ve got wood! Not the fun kind, but it’ll still warm us up-“ Donut crashed back through the trees, arms stacked full of dry logs and tinder. “Whoa, what’s going on here?” He dropped the wood at his feet and adjusted his pink belt. 

Tucker started laughing. “Well Church, I guess we’re definitely outnumbered now.”

"That’s right!" Sarge jumped in. "We’ve got a two man advantage. Now you’re forced to leave, or we’ll make you!" 

"Or, we could help you," Church said, a sly grin appearing on his face. "Hey, Caboose, why don’t you give the big guy over there a hand?"

"Okay," Caboose stated, turning around towards Lopez. As he moved he tripped over one of the logs Donut had dropped and fell onto Lopez, who crashed to the ground with a startled yelp and smacked his head against the tree behind him. He groaned and crumpled, eyes sliding shut as he fell unconscious. 

Caboose brushed himself off and stood, stepping back with a quick, “Tucker did it.”

Donut hurried over to check on Lopez as Church grinned. “Well it looks like you’re down a man, and you’ll need one more to take care of him while you’re gone. So… I guess we’re even now.”

Sarge scowled. “…fine.”

* * *

"Is this really all you have?" Tucker asked, holding up the slim slice of rabbit meat he had been given.

"We weren’t counting on 3 extra people to feed, and you knocked out the only guy on our team that can track," Grif snapped, tearing off a piece of meat with his teeth.

They all sat huddled around the fire that Donut had made. The Blues sat together on one side and the Reds on the other. Lopez lay under their meager shelter, his head having been haphazardly bandaged by Sarge. The two crews had worked out an agreement where, once they found the treasure, the Reds would get 65% of whatever they found and the Blues would get the rest. Sarge wasn’t happy about the deal, but agreed that it was better than the two crews trying to fight over it and risk losing someone on their already short teams.

"You’re the captain, then?" Sarge asked Church around a mouthful of rabbit.

Church nodded as Tucker said, “More or less.”

Sarge quirked an eyebrow at them. “What does that mean?”

"Our original captain, Flowers, fell overboard one day and drowned. Ever since then Church has taken over captaining the ship," Tucker explained.

"It was totally an accident," Church said quickly.

"Sure it was," Grif snorted and Simmons snickered quietly beside him. Tucker gave them an odd look and then turned back to the conversation.

"Where did you find that map anyway?" he asked Sarge.

"It was stuck with a bunch of old papers below deck on the ship. I’d never seen it before, but it must be old considering all the stains on it," Sarge said proudly.

Grif choked back another bout of laughter and Simmons elbowed him in the side. 

"It’s getting late. We should head to sleep so we can get up early tomorrow and begin our search!" Donut said, throwing a rabbit bone behind him and standing up. 

The others followed suit, arranging themselves under the shelter and around the fire. Caboose stuck close to Church no matter how much Church grumbled, and Tucker lay down not too far from them. Sarge propped himself up against a tree and pulled his hat down to cover his eyes. 

"I guess I’ll take first watch then," Simmons grumbled, moving over to the the fire and stoking the flames with a stray stick. The day had been warm, but the night had brought on much colder weather and Simmons knew someone would have to stay awake to tend to the fire. 

Grif followed after him, plopping down at his side and propping himself up on one elbow to watch Simmons.

"What?" Simmons finally said defensively after a beat of silence.

"Nothing," Grif replied, continuing to watch as Simmons sat back, hands behind him and knees drawn up to his chest. 

"Quit staring," Simmons said quickly.

"I’m not staring."

"Yes, you are."

"I am not."

"Yes, you are-"

"Oh for fuck’s sake, will you two shut up already? I’m trying to sleep." Tucker’s voice carried over from the Blue’s side of the camp and shut Grif and Simmons up.

Grif stayed up with Simmons until the quiet cracking of the fire and the exhaustion from the day’s activities finally started to lull him to sleep. After the fourth time jerking himself awake, Simmons knocked Grif’s arm out from under him, causing Grif’s body to hit the ground with a low thump. 

"Hey!" he whined quietly.

"Go to sleep, stupid," Simmons snapped, a slight hint of fondness in his tone. 

Grif started to argue but Simmons cut him off. “Come on, you know you want to sleep. I’ll wake up Donut or something when I need to.”

Finally, Grif nodded. “All right. Don’t stay up the whole night. We’ve got a day of adventuring tomorrow,” he said with a small smile.

Simmons rolled his eyes. “You’re an idiot.”

"A clever idiot," Grif shot back, rolling onto his stomach and closing his eyes, instantly falling asleep.

Simmons smiled at his back. “Still an idiot.” 


	3. Chapter 3

For once in his life, Grif woke up before everyone else. 

The sun crept over the horizon, sending out rays of pinks and yellows through the trees overhead. The warmth from the sun, however, didn't combat the chill of dawn. A morning breeze whistled through the camp, causing goose bumps to prick Grif's skin. He shivered and turned his face to the fire. Simmons must have fallen asleep before he could wake anyone else, for the man in question was out cold with his head resting on Grif's stomach and the fire had dimmed to embers. 

Grif shifted, careful not to wake Simmons, and grabbed a stick from off the ground. He prodded the fire, coaxing out any stray sparks and attempting to get the fire going again. He tried for a few minutes before eventually giving up and resting his head back on the ground with a grunt.

The ground was uncomfortable under his back, but he'd never let that get in the way of sleep before. He shifted around until he found an acceptable spot and then crossed his arms behind his head, turning towards Simmons. Simmons had passed out with his head facing Grif, cheek pressed into Grif's shirt. Having nothing better to do, Grif decided to spend the time scanning Simmons' face. 

They'd known each other for years now, and yet Grif had never really noticed how many freckles Simmons actually had. They spread across Simmons' sharp cheekbones and over the bridge of his nose, taking up a large portion of his face. Grif also knew from the rare times that Simmons took his shirt off that he had matching freckles dusting over his chest and arms. The freckles almost gave him an illusion of being tan, but Simmons was really as white as it got. Grif had no idea how Simmons kept his "Dutch-Irish" complexion by working in the heat of the sun every day.

It also surprised him how young Simmons looked when he slept. Grif was only a few years older than him, yet Simmons looked like a teenager with his messy red curls sticking up because of crazy cowlicks and his gawky limbs tucked neatly into his chest. If Grif hadn't seen Simmons' muscles working on the ship, he would have never believed that the younger man possessed any type of strength whatsoever. 

Grif smiled genuinely for the first time in a long time. It was too damn early for him to be awake, but if he was being honest with himself, he rather liked the quiet of the morning. It was a nice respite from the awful arguing and shouting of the day.

He shifted back down so that he could stare up at the sky. The movement must have jostled Simmons a bit too much, though. Simmons jerked awake and off Grif's chest, blinking around at the light of day.

"Wha-?" he mumbled, scrubbing his cheek with the back of his hand. 

The illusion of calm shattered. Grif propped himself up on his elbow and smirked, "Mornin', sunshine."

"Did I- Fuck, was anyone watching the fire?" 

Grif shook his head. "You must have fallen asleep. I only woke up about ten minutes ago. Doesn't matter, anyway. Seems no one was that cold last night."

Simmons seemed to realize how close he was to Grif and that familiar blush appeared on his cheeks. He scooted back a little and adjusted his shirt. "Were you, uh, were you the first one awake?"

"Yeah, I can't believe it either," Grif said dryly, sitting up.

Sarge let out a snore from somewhere behind them and jolted awake, looking around wildly. Grif snickered as Simmons snapped to attention almost instantly.

"Good morning, sir," Simmons chirped. 

"Morning already?" Sarge grumbled, clearing his throat. He rose to his feet and cracked his back. "Damn, time is a sneaky mistress, isn't she?"

Simmons nodded and stood. "Should we get going then?"

"Hold on, hold on," Grif interrupted, scrambling to his feet as well. "What about breakfast?"

"Breakfast?!" Sarge gaped at Grif. "There's no time for breakfast, Grif! We're right in the middle of a hunt! A treasure hunt no less. It's the most important kind of hunt there is! We can have breakfast from on top of the piles of gold."

"You mean your half of the piles of gold." Church's voice came out muffled from behind the arm slung across his face. He sat up, wiping the corner of his mouth with his hand and glared at the Reds.

"Hey, we get more than half!" Simmons retorted indignantly.

Church rolled his eyes. "Oh, 55% or whatever."

"65," Simmons mumbled.

"You guys suck at sleeping in," Tucker grumbled from his place on the ground. 

"Tell me about it," Grif said, rolling his eyes.

"Hey, you're the one that woke me up this time," Simmons pointed out.

"Blame the sun or whatever for that one," Grif snapped. 

Simmons snorted. "Oh let me get right on that. I'll file a formal complaint with the big ass yellow ball in the sky."

"Of course you'd make an insult boring by bringing work into it."

"I'm sorry, is my banter not good enough for you?" Simmons mocked.

"Hey! You're the one talking about filing a complaint to a fucking inanimate object in a metaphorical situation! What kind of a loser does that?" Grif cried.

"Maybe someone that'd like to have an intelligent conversation for once instead of pushing the blame onto the fucking sun!" Simmons' voice cracked as he threw his arms into the air in disgust.

"Is this really the fucking conversation we're having?" Church exploded in a shrill voice.

"Are they always like this?" Tucker stage-whispered to Donut, who had woken up during all the shouting. 

Donut nodded, wiping the sleep out of his eyes. "Pretty much."

"Quit yer arguing and get a move on! We're wasting precious daylight!" Sarge called out in a booming voice. 

Simmons huffed and turned away from Grif, packing up their meager items angrily, his movements harsh. Grif rolled his eyes and kicked at the dying fire until it was covered with sand. Donut gently shook Caboose awake, who had somehow remained asleep for the whole argument, and then went to check on Lopez who was still out cold.

Not long after that Sarge had corralled their small group, and after leaving Donut with some supplies and a goodbye, they headed off through the jungle. 

Grif and Simmons went back to behaving how they normally did after that. They bickered and joked, throwing insults that didn't really sound like insults, and fond jibes back and forth. Church and Tucker exchanged a glance and then shrugged, delving into their own conversation. 

They traveled fairly quickly through the dense jungle. When the undergrowth became too gnarled for further movement, Tucker drew his sword and began slashing at the dense plant life. The actions became repetitive not too long into their journey, and despite Sarge's zeal, the group was starting to lose their momentum and enthusiasm. 

By the third day most of the group was exhausted and tired of seeing the same jungle for hours at a time. 

"This fucking sucks," Grif grumbled, kicking at a stray stone.

Simmons rolled his eyes. "Twelve."

Grif looked up and raised an eyebrow. "Are we saying random numbers, then?"

"Thirty-seven," Caboose mumbled.

"No, idiot. This is the twelfth time you've complained today. I'm amusing myself by keeping count," Simmons explained with an exasperated sigh.

Grif stared at him. "That has to be the lamest form of entertainment I've ever heard of."

"Hey, at least I'm not complaining," Simmons shot back.

"Twenty-five," Caboose said quietly, followed by an eye roll from Church.

"Will you two give it a rest? Your arguments used to be slightly entertaining, but now it's just downright annoying," Church said.

Tucker snorted. "What are you talking about, dude? It's always been annoying. We just notice it more now since it's the only damn thing happening anymore."

"This is all your fault anyway," Simmons said in a lower voice. "If you hadn't have made up that stupid map-"

"You went along with it!" Grif whispered harshly.

"Because I listen to my captain like a good ship-man should!" Simmons cried.

"You are such a kiss-ass," Grif snorted.

"It never fucking ends, does it?" Tucker groaned.

"Forty-three."

"Shut up, Caboose!" Church snapped.

"Quiet!" Sarge hissed, stopping in his tracks. "Do you hear that?"

The group froze, listening. 

"I don't-" Tucker started, but was shushed by Simmons.

"It sounds like... singing?" Simmons whispered.

The group looked back and forth between each other before finally stepping forward and parting the trees in front of them. Grif gasped, eyes widening as he took in the sight.

They had finally made it to the lake, which surprised Grif enough considering it shouldn't have existed. But that was the least of his worries.

Because there was the lake, sparkling blue water shimmering in the afternoon sun, and flickering just under the surface were the opalescent tails of dozens of gorgeous mermaids.


	4. Chapter 4

After living as a pirate for years now, Grif supposed he should have paid more attention to the harsh whispers between passing sailors and songs sung around the fire at night. He supposed he should have paid more attention to the tales that old pirate captains swore on their very ships were true. He supposed he should have been more careful venturing into an unexplored jungle with only a small group of men.

However, none of that mattered now. Because he'd be lying if he said he wasn't the most shocked he had ever been in his entire life, standing on the banks of the lake and staring into the faces of creatures that shouldn't even exist.

And the mermaids stared right back.

The lake they had stumbled onto was surrounded by the dense trees of the jungle and shaped like a large letter U, taking up the majority of the little cove. Water slapped at the banks on either side of them and threatened to flood the small strip of land they stood on. They were frozen in between the stretches of water, gazing at the mermaids in shock. The women beckoned to them from the water, tails flicking teasingly at the surface of the lake.

Finally, the group slowly walked forward until they were at the end of the thin peninsula and staring down into the sparkling water.

"I can't fucking believe it," Tucker whispered, quickly sheathing his sword.

The rest of the group was silent as the mermaids swam towards them, expressions a mixture of curiosity and playfulness. A few of them giggled and ducked shyly behind their long hair.

"They're gorgeous," Church gasped, gaping. Tucker winked at one of them and the mermaid blushed, hiding her face under the water.

Grif swallowed. The mermaids were beautiful, sure, but he couldn't ignore the heaviness that had settled in his gut. He glanced at the others in the group. It seemed almost all of them were enchanted by the approaching mermaids, but judging by the look on Simmons' face, the younger pirate was just as apprehensive of the women gracefully drifting to the edge of the lake.

The clearing that the lake was located in became eerily quiet, and that's when Grif noticed that the singing had stopped. 

"Good afternoon," a mermaid with flowing red hair murmured, her husky voice the very embodiment desire.

Grif watched as the men beside him melted at her words, and he couldn't stop from shivering a little himself. As odd as the situation felt, the mermaid's voice helped to clear away his doubts. He tried to shake off the spell, but then she spoke again and he lost all the desire to fight it.

"It's been a very long time since we've had visitors, hasn't it girls?" she purred and the other mermaids nodded vigorously. Their wide doe eyes stared longingly at the group. A few of the mermaids sighed and twisted their hair around their slender fingers.

"It's so lonely here with no company," the mermaid sighed, her full lips drooping into a slight pout. She lifted herself out of the water and crossed her arms on the sandy bank, propping her chin on her lily white forearm.

The mermaid cocked her head, long tail swishing out behind her in a mesmerizing pattern, and fixed the group with a gaze full of promise half hidden under heavy lids. Grif heard a whimper come from somewhere behind him, and one of the men shifted on his feet. Grif couldn't blame him. The mermaid's gray eyes held him captive, and he was powerless under her. 

"Well, it would be rude to ignore a lady in need, now wouldn't it," Sarge ventured, voice strained.

The others nodded in agreement. 

A smaller mermaid with smooth ebony skin and eyes black as night swam up behind the first mermaid. Grif's stare was drawn to the soft curve of her shoulders, leading down to her chest and hips and extending into her powerful tail. She murmured something into the first mermaid's ear, and Grif watched her lips shape the words with a whine building in his throat.

The first mermaid nodded, her fiery hair skimming the surface of the water, and then fixed her eyes on Simmons.

Grif watched the blush spread across Simmons' pale skin from out of the corner of his eye. That reaction caused something to jar him from the moment. He gasped, stepping back a little. For a moment, he thought he saw a flash of a glare on the second mermaid's face, but then her dark eyes caught his own and he was trapped again. She smiled at him, flashing her bright teeth and then crooked a long finger in his direction. He staggered forward instantly, dropping to his knees in front of her. 

She began singing to him in a quiet voice, her words sliding over his skin like cream and causing him to shiver. He closed his eyes as her fingers skimmed over his jaw, pulling him closer to her. The other mermaids began singing again, their voices harmonizing effortlessly. Grif was lost in the sensation of her touch combined with the music that flowed through his body. 

"Join me," she whispered, her other hand tangling in his shirt.

He briefly registered his nod before she was pulling him into the water.

"HEY!" someone shouted from behind him.

The voices of the mermaids cut off and Grif turned to see a figure clad only in black snap a booted foot towards the first mermaid's face.

The mermaids let out a collective shriek, shattering the flawless illusion. The first mermaid screamed, jaw dropping open to reveal rows of serrated teeth, her hair whipping around her face in an enraged wind. 

Grif jerked out of the mermaid's grip, ignoring her hiss of anger and smacking her hand away as she reached for him, fumbling to draw his pistol.

The other men snapped out of their trance, dazed for only a moment before they realized what was happening and started pulling out their weapons and taking aim at the beautiful beasts slipping gracefully through the water.

The figure in black fired shot after shot into the cluster of mermaids, not even pausing.

" _Grif_ , get up!" Simmons shouted, ducking as a mermaid flew over his head to land without a splash on the other side of the peninsula. 

Grif scrambled to right himself. The mermaids were still screaming and hissing, the harsh noises making his ears ring. 

Caboose, who had been quiet until now, jumped out of the way of one mermaid and grabbed another one out of the air, throwing her back into the water. "No! Bad fish lady!"

Tucker slashed at one of the mermaids with his sword as she sailed over him, grinning triumphantly as she cried out in pain and tumbled into the water with a flat  _smack_. "Take that, you fish bitch!"

"Drive them to the end of the cove! That's where their cave is. Then we can make a break for it!" the figure in black shouted in a gruff voice.

Church looked up, confusion on his features, "Hey, wait a minute-"

"No time!" the figure cried. "Just keep moving!"

The group slowly fought their way back to the edge of the forest. Some mermaids followed them, but Grif could see many of them giving up and darting away underwater, back to their underground cave.

They were almost at the tree line when a mermaid launched herself from the water, right over Grif. He ducked, firing up with his pistol and watching her splash into the water with grim satisfaction. As he popped back up, however, the dark skinned mermaid that had almost captured him earlier launched herself out of the water, grabbing Grif around the waist and tackling him into the water.

He cried out and heard someone shout his name before he was pulled under the water. He thrashed, trying to escape the mermaid's grip as she pulled him farther and farther under water. Her arms were strong around his waist, easily containing his desperate movements as his lungs strained for air. She grinned at him, those white teeth mocking him in the darkness of the water. 

Unable to fight it anymore, he involuntarily opened his mouth, gagging as water rushed down his throat. Dark spots hovered before his eyes and his struggles slowed. He was on the verge of passing out when a stream of bubbles streaked towards the mermaid's chest. Her smile fell away as blood blossomed from just above her left breast. She gasped and let go of him, sinking into the deep. 

Suddenly something grasped his shirt, hauling him upwards until his head broke the surface. Whoever was holding him changed their grip, snaking their arms under his armpits and dragging him out of the water. His eyes opened momentarily to see the figure in black, scarf tied around its face and blue eyes staring at him before he passed out.

Moments later Grif awoke to a painful pressure on his chest, rhythmically pressing into his ribs. He choked, leaning away to cough up what seemed to be an endless stream of water. His throat burned and his eyes watered as he coughed and spat. Someone patted his back, helping maneuver him so he could get the rest of the water out of his lungs.

Finally he stopped, spitting out what was left of the water and breathing heavily, throat sore. He looked up, eyes foggy and vaguely saw the figure in black crouching next to him.

"Good," the figure said tersely, "You're not dead."

Grif wheezed as someone launched themselves at him, wrapping their arms around his waist. He automatically snaked an arm around their back, using the other to prop himself up. He caught a glimpse of rusty red hair before a voice shakily breathed into his shoulder.

"Grif," Simmons gasped. "I thought you were dead."

Grif bit out a harsh laugh, his voice rough. "Me too. Seems like it'll take a lot more than a clingy mermaid to off me though, huh?"

Simmons laughed into Grif's neck and then sat back, smacking Grif in the chest. "This isn't funny, asshole."

Grif raised an eyebrow, surprised to see that Simmons' eyes were rimmed in red, his face blotchy and breath hitching with unshed tears. "Wow Simmons, I didn't peg you as the sentimental type."

"You fucker," Simmons sniffed, arms still loosely wrapped around Grif's waist. "You motherfucker, I  _hate_  you. Don't  _ever_  do something like that again."

Grif sighed, throat scratching as he absently rubbed circles on Simmons' back with his thumb. "I know. I'm sorry."

They were quiet for a moment before the figure cleared its throat. "Sorry to interrupt," the figure didn't sound sorry at all, "but we should get moving before they come back."

It didn't have to tell them twice. Simmons awkwardly clambered off Grif as Tucker grabbed Grif's arm and hauled him to his feet. The group hastily scrambled into the tree line, not daring to look back even as a muffled singing started behind them.

They ran until they couldn't run anymore and the singing was just a distant memory. Grif's breath wheezed out of his abused throat in short gasps. He bent over and spat into the grass, chest aching. "I... Hate... Running."

"You hate all kinds of exercise, idiot," Simmons gasped out, clutching his chest. It seemed their moment had passed once again.

A retort formed on Grif's tongue, but Sarge spoke before he could.

"All right," Sarge said once they had recovered. He turned to the figure in black. "I appreciate you saving out hides and all, but it'd be nice to know who you are."

The figure straightened, icy blue eyes staring back at Sarge, unwavering. "I can't-"

"Save it," Church said, stepping forward. The figure eyed him warily. "I know who you are."

"You do?" Tucker asked.

"Church is good with faces," Caboose said quietly.

"But we can't see his face!" Tucker responded.

"Shut up!" Church snapped. "And it's not a 'he' either."

"What?" Simmons squeaked in surprise.

The figure sighed and unwrapped the scarf from around its face. "Aw shit." 

Grif's eyes widened in shock at the change in pitch from the figure's voice.

"What, the masked dude is a chick?" Tucker asked, dumbfounded.

"I'm not a  _chick_ ," the figure growled, finally pulling away the scarf and removing her hat, revealing long blond hair and a thin face. "My name's-"

"Tex," Church finished. "Good to see you again."

"You too, Church," Tex said, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth before morphing into a scowl. She turned and drew her hand into a fist, thrusting it into Tucker's arm.

"Ow! Hey!" Tucker cried indignantly. "What the fuck was that?"

"That was for the 'chick' comment," she replied with a satisfied twitch of her lips. _  
_

"Can someone please explain what's going on?" Grif huffed.

Tex rolled her eyes. "Of course. But we should make camp. It's getting dark."

The group trudged on until they arrived at the side of a cliff. They found an overhang and hunkered down under it. Church started a fire as Tex ran off to find food, throwing a promise to explain when she got back over her shoulder before disappearing into the woods.

As soon as she was gone, Tucker turned on Church. "Who is she, and why do you know her?"

Church held up his hands. "Look, we used to be a thing but then I got into the pirate business and she took off and that's the last I'd seen of her, all right? I have no idea what she's doing here."

Tucker scowled. "I don't like it."

"You're just pissed because she's not interested," Church mocked, kicking his foot out at Tucker's leg.

Tucker plopped down next to him but didn't answer.

Tex returned a short time later with a small animal for each of them strung on a string around her waist. Sarge watched her approach, impressed, but none of them questioned how she did it.

As the animals roasted over the fire, Tex came through on her promise and began her explanation.

"When you left," she started, nodding at Church, "I got involved in this business. It was a new concept, similar to piracy, but the pay is much better. I'd heard about it before, but finally decided to check it out once you were gone. It's headed by this guy that I've only met once. He's pretty strict on keeping his identity a secret, since what he's doing is very illegal." She smiled to herself, removing one of the rabbits from the fire and replacing it with another one. "There's a few of us in the project. Simply, he gives us a ship and a crew and an assignment and sends us out to complete our objectives and give him his cut. He targets pretty high profile people, usually the ships of dukes or even kings, so there's plenty to go around once we take the ship."

Tex sat back, staring into the fire and sighing. "Sometimes I'd work with the others, but lately they've drifted off. I've heard rumors about a few of them being killed, but I've been alone for a while now so I can't be sure."

"So, what, you're on your own out in the ocean?" Church asked, barely disguised concern in his voice.

Tex shrugged. "I've got my crew, but they're really only there to help out with the ship. I can't pilot one on my own. But they leave the fighting to me."

"You're telling me you can take on a whole ship by yourself?" Tucker snorted, disbelieving.

Tex flashed him a thin lipped smile but didn't say anything.

"I'm not surprised. You saw how she fought those mermaids today," Grif said.

"You still haven't thanked me for saving your ass, by the way," Tex pointed out. 

Grif held up his hands. "Hey, I figured it was implied."

Tex scoffed. "I guess that's as I good as I'm going to get."

"You're damn right."

"Hey," Church butted in. "You haven't explained what you're doing here."

Tex folded one of her legs under the other, picking at a clump of dirt stuck to the sole with her knife. "I recognized your ship and figured I'd pay a little visit. Thought there'd be a reason you'd stopped at an island in the middle of nowhere."

The group exchanged a glance.

"Um..." Tucker started.

Tex raised an eyebrow. "You're searching for treasure, aren't you?"

"N-no way!" Simmons piped up. "What gave you t-that idea?"

Grif snorted. "Way to keep your cool, dude."

"Well, since I did save you all today-" Tex leaned forward, the firelight casting her thin face into sharp relief, "I want in."

"What?!" Sarge exclaimed. "That's not an option. The treasure is ours!"

Tex crossed her arms and cocked her head. "Either you give me a cut, or I'll just wait for you and take it all when you get back. Actually, that sounds like a better idea."

"All right, all right!" Church snapped. "You're in, happy?"

"Wait just a second-!" Sarge cried.

"Let it go, Sarge," Grif said apathetically, "You're not gonna win this one."

Sarge frowned, but backed down. Tex smiled triumphantly.

"Sounds like a plan."

* * *

The group ate and then turned away from the fire to catch a few hours of sleep. Tucker and Caboose were out instantly, exhausted from the day's events. Sarge passed out not long after them. Church and Tex spoke quietly off to the side for a while before eventually settling down close together.

Grif and Simmons were left by the fire again, backs against the cliff wall while Simmons poked the fire with a stick every so often. They were silent for a while until Grif spoke up.

"You should get some rest this time. I'll watch the fire."

Simmons shook his head. "You're the one that almost died today. You need it more than me." His finished his statement with a yawn.

Grif chuckled. "I'm not gonna die in my sleep if that's what you're worried about. I'm serious, lie down for a while."

"Grif-" Simmons started, but he was cut off by another yawn.

"It's okay, man. I'll take care of it."

They stared at each other for a moment, shoulders touching. Seeing that Grif wasn't going to back down, Simmons finally nodded. He started to slip down the rock, settling in for sleep, when Grif grabbed his arm, stopping him.

"What, did you change your mind already?" Simmons asked, only slightly annoyed.

"No, I-" Grif swallowed. "Were you- were you actually worried about me today?"

Simmons raised an eyebrow, trying to act indifferent, but Grif could see the blush forming on his cheeks. "I dunno man, I-"

"Be honest," Grif said quietly.

Simmons regarded him carefully, noting the serious look on Grif's face. Finally, he nodded. "Yeah, I mean I guess so. You did almost die. I didn't want to..." He trailed off.

"Didn't want to what?" Grif asked, attempting to hide his interest.

Simmons swallowed. "Didn't want to lose you. Didn't want to be here without you. Didn't want to be left with only Sarge and Donut. Take your pick, they're all true," Simmons breathed out in a rush. The blush grew bright on his cheeks.

"I- Really?" The word fell from his lips in surprise.

Simmons' eyes grew cold. "Yes, really, believe it or not. You're the only friend I have on this crew that I actually care about. Of course I'd care if you died."

He turned away from Grif, tucking himself into a ball. "Goodnight, Grif."

"Simmons, wait-" Grif stumbled out, grabbing Simmons' upper arm and turning him around. His eyes widened in surprise to see angry tears forming in Simmons' eyes.

"What?" Simmons snapped.

Grif paused. He could feel Simmons' harsh breath on his face, his hot skin on Grif's palm. Grif swallowed, and before he could change his mind, he dipped his face forward and pressed their lips together. Simmons jerked in surprise, pulling away. 

They stared at each other, Grif's stomach churning. He was about to apologize when Simmons leaned forward and brought their mouths together again. Grif immediately reached up and grabbed a fistful of Simmons' hair, tilting his head to deepen the kiss.

Simmons' hands grasped at Grif's waist when he pulled back to stare into Simmons' eyes. "Now you really should sleep."

Simmons whined, glaring at him, but Grif just chuckled and sat up. He kissed Simmons' temple and then pulled away, grabbing a stray stick and coaxing sparks from the fire's flames.

Grif relaxed against the cliff wall, content to watch the others sleep and the slow crackling of the flames. He didn't say anything as Simmons curled into his side. He didn't say anything as Simmons squirmed closer, clutching Grif's hand. He didn't say anything as Simmons sighed his name and finally fell asleep.

He stayed quiet and listened to the sound of Simmons breathing. He knew that faking the map was probably going to get them all killed at some point, if not by mermaids, then by Tex when she found out it was fake. Looking down at Simmons' still face, he decided it was totally worth it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grif knew he was going to die today.
> 
> Normally his job as a pirate was life-threatening enough, so he couldn't ever entirely be sure he would live through the day. But today was different, because today he was sure of two things.
> 
> One: They would reach the treasure-less cave before sundown.
> 
> And two: He would be the first one everyone blamed.
> 
> At least he got to kiss Simmons first.

Grif woke up with sand in his eyes and mouth and all over his clothes. He grimaced and spit, rolling onto his back and scrubbing the grit from his face.

"Damn," he grunted, brushing the sand from his clothes. A rock dug into his side and he shifted away from it, wincing as the glare of the sun filtering through the trees caught his eyes. A humid wind rolled over him, blowing even more sand onto his skin. He sighed in frustration. His entire body was sticky and uncomfortable. The day hadn't even started yet and he was already miserable. 

He closed his eyes, rubbed at them with his knuckles, and sat up. 

Tex was nowhere to be found, probably off hunting or scouting again. Sarge had the "map" in his lap, his eyes scanning the cloth. Simmons was still by Grif's side, watching Sarge faithfully. Tucker and Church were stretching near the tree line and making idle conversation. The only one still asleep was Caboose. His back was to Grif, but Grif could hear the quiet little snores Caboose was making.

"Where'd this heat come from?" Grif grumbled, turning towards Simmons.

Simmons started, having not noticed Grif waking up. A faint blush colored his ears, something that Grif internally smirked at, before he spoke. "The storm coming in from the south brought in the humidity. It's been like this all morning."

Grif craned his neck to look over the tops of the trees and noticed a gathering of swollen clouds slowly approaching them.

"Hope that doesn't catch up to us anytime soon," Grif huffed. "Actually, I take that back. I'd rather be soaked in rain than my own sweat."

"Trust me," Simmons said, wrinkling his nose. "We'd all rather have that."

Grif shrugged, leaning back. "Eh, you'll get used to it."

Simmons paused, and then shuddered. "It's scary to think that I already am."

Grif grinned and bumped Simmons' shoulder with his own. "It's part of my charm."

"Hey, lovebirds!" Tucker called, and they both jumped. "Come over here. We need to talk!"

Simmons stumbled to his feet and staggered, the feeling having been lost in his legs. Grif followed slowly, stretching like a cat and adjusting his bandanna. They made their way over to the tree line and saw that Tex had returned. She was leaning against a tree, cleaning blood off her knife. Grif eyed it warily as Sarge joined them.

"I've looked ahead a couple hundred yards and there isn't anything too dangerous coming up. We should be okay to continue, and we'll probably make the cave by nightfall if your map is right," Tex said, nodding to the cloth clutched in Sarge's hand.

"Sounds good to me," Church said, running his thumb over the handle of his pistol.

Tex followed the movement and quirked a smile. "You ever learn to fire that?"

"Yes," Church answered as Tucker said, "No." Church glared at Tucker and Tex snorted.

"All right. Wake the kid and let's get moving," Tex said.

Church moved to shove Caboose awake. Grif turned and saw Sarge scowling.

"Oh, great," Grif groaned quietly. 

Simmons opened his mouth to question Grif, but Sarge spoke before he could.

"Now listen here," Sarge said in a tone that Grif was all too familiar with. "You may have joined our little group, but that doesn't mean you get to command my men. That's my job."

Tex turned around and raised an eyebrow. "I saved all of your asses after you led your men into a Siren nest," she replied coolly. "I think you could use a little help."

"Tex-" Church started, a sleepy Caboose at his shoulder.

"No, Church, I think we need to clear this up right now," Tex said, eyeing the group. "I understand I wasn't here from the beginning, but without me, you'd all be dead. So I'd appreciate it if my opinion was respected around here, and maybe I can keep you all from killing yourselves." She paused and locked eyes with each of them. "Sound good?"

Sarge grumbled something under his breath but stepped down. Tex nodded at him. 

"All right, then. Let's get moving."

* * *

The group slashed their way through the thick undergrowth of the jungle for the better part of the day. Tex, Sarge, Church and Tucker led the group and the others followed behind, looking out for predators in the dense thicket of trees. 

Grif made sure to stay as close as he could to Simmons for the majority of the time. He'd realized early in the morning that it made Simmons nervous. It had quickly become one of his favorite games.

After the eighth time of Grif brushing his hand against Simmons', which resulted in Simmons jumping and almost stumbling over an exposed root, Simmons hissed, "Quit it, asshole."

"Quit what?" Grif questioned, continuing to keep pace behind the group.

"Quit- quit  _touching_ me, for fuck's sake," Simmons snapped.

"Why?" Grif asked innocently.

Simmons groaned. "You're insufferable."

Grif grinned to himself and kicked a rock out of the way. "Oh come on-"

"I just- I don't want anyone to know," Simmons whispered, watching the others warily.

Grif snorted. "I'm pretty sure if they didn't already know, they've probably guessed by now. Maybe the only one who doesn't know is Caboose, but that's not really surprising."

Simmons blushed again and Grif snickered. 

"What?" Simmons muttered indignantly.

"It's cute," Grif said before he could stop himself. He froze for a second, but then continued on as if nothing had happened. 

"Wait, what?" Simmons squeaked, color spreading down his neck.

"You heard me," Grif said casually. He'd already said it, so fuck it. "It's cute when you blush, what do you want from me?"

Simmons spluttered, but before he could respond the group stopped.

"What is it?" Tucker asked, craning his head to look at Tex.

"The cave should be right around here," Sarge said, peering at the map.

Grif swallowed. "Oh, shit."

Simmons glanced at him. "You might want to run."

"Eh, I think I'd rather be murdered," Grif replied, watching Sarge and Tex apprehensively as they searched the area. "Goodbye, Simmons. It's been nice."

Simmons rolled his eyes. "You're an idiot. A totally dead idiot."

"I don't understand," Sarge muttered. "It should be right here."

"Let me see the map," Tex said, holding out her hand. Sarge gave it to her and she studied it, eyes growing wide as she ran her fingers over the cloth.

"Fuck," Grif whispered.

"What the hell is this?" Tex hissed.

"What?" Sarge asked defensively. 

"You're joking, right?" Tex demanded. "This is a joke."

"What do you mean this is a joke?" Sarge snapped.

"What's going on, Tex?" Church asked.

Tex threw her arm in the air, "map" flapping in her clenched fist. "The map's a fake!"

"What?!" Sarge cried. "No it ain't!"

"The cloth it's printed on? It's the same cloth that cheap shirts are made out of. I recognize it from a trade ship I jacked once," she explained. "This 'map' is bullshit. Where did you get it?"

"It was in my quarters. I'd never seen it before, but-" Sarge froze and then turned slowly to face Simmons and Grif.

"Grif, do you know where this map came from?" Sarge asked slowly, a fire building in his eyes. Tex stood behind him, seething.

Grif gulped. 

"DAMN IT, GRIF," Sarge yelled, stomping towards Grif. "DID YOU MAKE UP THIS MAP?"

Grif defended himself automatically, inching backwards. "I-"

"Simmons!" Sarge cried, turning suddenly towards the other man.

Simmons jumped. "Sir?" he responded shakily.

 _Fuck_ , Grif thought to himself, watching Simmons' eyes dart back and forth guiltily between him and Sarge.  _I'm boned._

"Did you know about this?" Sarge asked.

"I-I," Simmons stuttered. He swallowed and then blurted, "It was Grif's idea, sir."

"Oh, you son of a bitch," Grif growled.

"That's one fucked up relationship right there," Tucker muttered to Church. Church snorted.

"I left my ship and almost got killed by mermaids for this?" Tex said scathingly. 

"Hey, I almost died too!" Grif added.

"GRIF-" Sarge started.

"Oh,  _hey_ , you guys."

The group spun around to see Donut clambering through the trees with Lopez in tow. The bigger man still looked a little hazy-eyed, but he was on his feet.

Tex drew her pistol, but Church put a hand on her arm. "We know them, kind of. It's fine."

Caboose grinned widely. "Private pastry!"

"Hi, everyone! We heard shouting and decided to come on over. How's everyone doing?" Donut chirped. 

Tex still looked apprehensive, and majorly pissed off, until she noticed what was strung around Donut's neck.

"Where... where did you get that?" Tex asked, gesturing to the large amulet resting on Donut's chest.

"Oh, this old thing?" Donut said, looking down at the necklace. "I found it with the rest of the treasure."

Tex spluttered, looking completely flabbergasted for once.

"Did you say treasure?" Church asked.

"Oh yeah, loads of it!" Donut said cheerily. "It's back the way we came from, right Lopez?"

"Sí," Lopez said in a monotone voice, shifting his grip on what Grif now saw was a small treasure chest.

"No freakin' way," Tucker gaped. "There's absolutely no way."

"I'm confused," Caboose said, chewing his lip. "Is there real treasure?"

"Of course, silly! We just followed the directions Sarge gave us and Lopez found the cave it was in!" Donut said.

"But, but-" Church spluttered.

Grif stood there with his mouth agape as Simmons turned to look at him.

"Did you-"

"I had no idea," Grif whispered. "Okay, I'm seriously freaking out. I don't know how-"

Tex shrugged. "Hey, you could have pulled that treasure out of the bottom of the ocean for all I care. I'm just glad I'm getting my share."

"She's right!" Sarge said. "We can discuss Grif's magic powers some other time. But for now, let's go get stocked up on some gold!"

Donut grinned and skipped away, leading them to the cave. The others rushed to follow.

Donut brushed aside an overgrown tree branch, revealing a small hole in the side of a cliff. The group slipped inside, grumbling as sharp bits of rock scraped against their exposed skin. Then Tex, who was right behind Donut, gasped quietly. The others hurried to see and then froze in shock. Stacks of treasure chests lined the walls of the small cave, and scattered across the floor were gold coins and jewels of different colors and sizes. 

"I think I might cry," Church said, stepping up to a chest and running his fingers over the gold.

Tex didn't say a word. She moved up next to Church and scanned the contents of the chest. She picked up a handful of gold and silver coins and let them run through her fingers. 

Grif hung back with Simmons by the entrance to the cave while the others slipped through the mounds of chests and gold, making little delighted noises every so often.

"I'm going to pass out," Grif mumbled. "This is a dream, right? This isn't happening?"

"I have no idea how you did it," Simmons said, "but it's not a dream, dude."

"Oh, man," Grif grumbled, closing his eyes and rubbing his fingers over them. He slid down the cave wall, crumpling at Simmons' feet.

"Hey, look at it this way," Simmons offered, "at least we have tons of gold now. Maybe Sarge won't hate you anymore."

"GRIF! Get off your lazy ass and come over here. We need help carrying the treasure back to the ship!"

"Or not," Grif sighed. 

He stood back up and he and Simmons walked over to the others. As they reached the treasure, a grin slid over Grif's face, and he stretched up to whisper in Simmons' ear, "Hey, at least I don't have to hide my admiration of your booty anymore."

Simmons' blushing face was completely worth the hard punch to Grif's arm.

* * *

After splitting up the treasure, the group made their way back through the jungle. They reached the beach a few days later and hovered over the sand, watching the sails of their ships flap in the breeze.

"So what now?" Church asked.

"We go our separate ways," Grif said. "What else?"

"Mm, I think I might stick with you guys a little longer," Tex said, nodding at Church. "You look like you need help with your ship."

"What about yours?" Tucker pointed out, nodding to the black sails of Tex's ship.

Tex shrugged. "My crew can follow us. They know how to pilot the ship without me."

"Works for me," Church said.

Sarge inclined his head. "Well, if no one objects, my crew and I will be on our way."

Church looked over at Tex, and then back to Sarge. "You could sail with us, if you want," Church offered. 

"Really, dude?" Tucker questioned, raising an eyebrow.

Church shifted on the sand. "Why not?"

"Well, because you're a bunch of dirty blues! Why in the world would we want to sail with you?" Sarge demanded. 

Church held up his hands. "Hey, it was just a suggestion. It gets lonely out on the sea. Figured you guys might want some not so familiar faces to tag along with."

Sarge hummed, squinting his eyes at the blues.

"It'd be nice to have some sea friends," Caboose said quietly.

"I'm not opposed to it, sir," Simmons piped up, and Grif raised an eyebrow at him. Simmons shrugged back.

"Hm, all right," Sarge said. "But you're following us."

"You'll probably want to focus on catching up to us first," Tex said with a quirk of her lips.

Sarge narrowed his eyes. "We'll see about that."

The two teams piled into their dinghies and rowed back to their ships, before hauling their anchors in and sailing off towards the setting sun.

Later, Simmons found Grif sitting on the bow of the boat, staring off into the horizon and dangling one foot over the side. 

"Well, this is romantic," Simmons said dryly, joining Grif.

Grif cracked a smile. "You think so?"

"Sailing off towards the setting sun with an island at our backs and treasure in our stores? Yeah, it just screams romance."

Grif rolled his eyes. "You know what would make this more romantic?"

Simmons eyed him. "What?" 

Grif grabbed the front of Simmons' shirt and pulled him close, bringing their lips together messily. Simmons jumped and then scrambled to hold onto Grif, running his fingers through Grif's wind-blown hair. Grif's grip on Simmons' shirt relaxed as Simmons supported his own weight against Grif, placing his other hand on the railing of the ship. 

Then Simmons pulled back with a worried frown. "What if Sarge sees us? Or-" he shuddered, "Donut?"

"Don't care," Grif muttered shortly. 

Simmons sighed, fist clenching in Grif's dark hair.

"Regretting the pirate life at all?" Grif asked, pulling away slightly.

"Not in the slightest," Simmons breathed. 

"Still want your own ship?"

"Maybe," Simmons answered.

"I mean, you've got the gold now-"

Simmons gripped Grif's hair tighter in his fingers and pulled his face closer, growling against his lips, "Just shut up and kiss me, idiot."

Grif grinned and obliged, the setting sun warming his already hot skin as he pulled Simmons' slim body closer to him.

For once, he was more than happy to be stuck on this ship.


End file.
